


Tight

by we_work_hard



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: AJ just being hot AF, Gen, Masturbation, Other, Public Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:50:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_work_hard/pseuds/we_work_hard
Summary: AJ Styles realises just how sexy he is while working heel in NJPW. This is based on a series of headcanons I sent llowkeys ages ago, and was supposed to be for her birthday - happy late birthday, llowkeys, hope this doesn't suck...





	Tight

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue in stars + italics is supposed to be in Japanese. Can I speak Japanese - nope. 
> 
> The ring gear that inspired this is here: http://bit.ly/2tNTQq5 (Honestly, did he not realise what wearing that would do to people?)
> 
> (This is my first attempt at fanfic, so, I'm terrified. Also, it's unbetaed - please go easy on me...)

Tight

*“ _Do you need some help?_ "*

“No, no.” AJ waves off the Young Boy holding the bag of ice, sending him away disappointed. They’re way too helpful after his matches, too quick to pull his arms around their shoulders and shuffle him backstage – he can’t bare the touch on his skin, not when his body feels this sensitive from his work in the ring.

Japan has him feeling so different. The physicality isn’t it, not exactly. It’s not the pain from the blows he takes, or the whips into the ropes. It’s the freedom. He’s worked heel before of course, but not like this. In Bullet Club, he sneers, he winks at women in the crowd – he can stare openly at Yujiro’s valet with hunger in his eyes, licking at his own mouth and laughing. He’s free here in this promotion, so far from home.

The intensity the audience gives back to him is something he feels like touch. Walking to the ring with his music playing, the eyes drink him in while he cockily struts by. They carefully take in every part of his body, piece by piece, like meat. He can feel it, and it makes him shiver.

Here, in the NJPW halls where they’re so close, fingertips graze his arms, his chest – his hips, sometimes – with adoring lust. He’s treated like a fetish. The girls, and men too, touch their fingertips to their mouths after they’ve stroked his sweat from his body, and lick him from their fingers. AJ shudders at those thoughts, and strides away from tonight’s crowd towards the locker room, trying to hold back the effect they’ve had on him yet again.

He tugs his tights up higher over his belly in impatience with his own lack of control. These tights – AJ doesn’t know how they _got_ so tight. They’re so small, even on his short stocky figure – he can only just stretch the belt up over the v lines that lead to his junk before he heads out to wrestle. The elastic starts working itself back down at the front by the time he gets to the ring, exposing inches of flesh he would have been ashamed to show before.

But he’s found himself packing them nearly every night here, already salted with his sweat or not. Not Bullet Club affiliated, no bullet holes or skulls, just his old P1 sign and ‘Styles’ on faded matt black.

“Gear getting a bit tight there, daddy? Can see your little furry belly poking out,” is how Karl’s ribs go – but AJ hasn’t changed them for a week. Matches in these, he spends giving his tights a quick tug after every move – he has to, or risk exposing himself to the watchful, hungry crowd. He knows they’re waiting for it. The skin below his belly button tingles from the air as they tug further and further down in front, emphasising the sharp curve of his back. The crowds watch him extra close when he wears these, he feels their eyes on his thick legs stretching the material out; on the pale soft flesh of his inguinal creases, the hard bone of his hips; and the soft skin just underneath. Just above the part of him that they’re never going to see.

AJ bites his lower lip and allows himself to lightly stroke the ticklish strip of skin under his hips with his gloved fingers as he walks, pushing the belt further down and out to feel more of the fetid air on his damp flesh. Groaning as the hot feeling that’s been building for weeks grows. He breathes heavily and with difficulty as people walk past him backstage, eyeing him, how sweaty he is, how those tights are even lower than usual. His blue eyes look back at them through his sweat-slicked hair, mouth slackening while a sudden searing lust floods through him.

He feels tight and heavy between his legs, but it’s good. His stiffening cock, mashed down into the Lycra, throbs with the need to be grasped and stroked – so he puts his hand between his legs and squeezes hard, leaning against the cool wall of the dim hallway. It makes the feeling spread instead of sating it until he can get back to the hotel. He can’t take his hand away, not now he’s leaking into his tight gear. A quarter-sized wet spot shows shiny through the matt black material, spreading at the tip of his dick, making him squeeze through the tights again without thought. He drags in a deep breath, wishing he could taste himself there, smell it.

He pushes the sweaty muscles of his shoulders back against the cool brick and tips his head with a growl, barely noticing the rest of the Bullet Club walk past to get to their match.

*“ _AJ is very playful_ ”* giggles Yujiro’s valet, with Karl’s arm over her shoulders. “Uh-huh, _isn’t_ he?” says Karl, while smugly flicking his gaze down to the fist that’s framing AJ’s thickening crotch through his gear, like he’s presenting it.  “AJ's naughty too, huh?” Karl licks his bottom lip and winks back at the arrogant smile AJ flashes, then heads through the curtains with the cackling Young Bucks. They catch AJ’s eye and smirk knowingly before heading out, while he rubs the pad of his thumb over the stickiness he’s created at his groin, pushing his wet hair back with his other hand.   

Young Lions, other wrestlers, and crew, rush past AJ as he tears at the laces holding his belt tight around his waist. He can feel his face almost snarling from how turned on he is by touching and treating his own body like this, his own fetish – he wishes he could watch himself. But seeing _this_ will be enough, he thinks, poking the tip of his tongue out past his teeth while pulling his dick out of the restrictive material it’s been trapped in and out into the hot air, fisting the heated length and roughly squeezing it.

His hard flesh is dark pink at the tip and damp in his hand, drawn up and almost painful, and he sways at the sudden public exposure. The air on his groin makes him feel so dirty. He needs to see more of his body as he gets off, hooking his thumbs into his gear and tugging it down to mid-thigh, the muscle of his legs glistening with slick sweat.

“ _So freakin’ bad, ain’t you? Cock’s so fuckin’ hard and thick, huh?_ ” he murmurs as he works his arousal, flicking his hair out of his face, muscled arm flexing and pumping. He can hear Yujiro’s valet dancing for his brothers out in the ring, the crowd sighing and muttering over her body as they’d done over his. The lusty moan he lets out to join the sound echoes through the corridor, his leather glove feeling so good against the heated skin of his cock, the sound of his flesh sliding through his grip. Pre-cum leaks steadily from the tip, and the heady masculine scent of the pearly liquid hits his nose like smell of the seaside, or the good stink of chlorine – his salt, his pleasure, his beautiful body. 

He smells like sex, and it makes his mouth water. He spits into the glove of his right hand and begins to fuck his fist violently.

“ _Gonna make this dick cum really hard now, cum all over these fucking tights,_ ” he quietly grunts to himself, hips flexing in a steady staccato rhythm as the familiar hot feeling starts to build deep in his belly. He wants to fuck himself in front of a mirror, or a camera, or the whole crowd outside, right now.

AJ’s legs tense as his climax rips through him, starting at the base of his spine. The white heat spikes through his groin, making his hand speed up, until the strokes against his hard flesh get louder and sloppy. He bites his lips as his release paints his hand, his tights, the furred skin of his belly. He groans loud and long in satisfaction, rubbing the hot cum all over his hips, gasping “ _Yeah, yeah,_ ” and struggles to catch his breath.

Sliding his tongue out to slowly lick his sore lips, pink from being bitten while he’d pleasured himself so thoroughly, AJ’s eyelids flutter open as he feels a hand gently grab his wrist and pull an arm over shoulders. *“ _Do you need help?_ ”* the young boy from earlier asks again, hesitantly reaching to help pull up AJ’s tights, or maybe to gather the milky fluid onto his fingers to taste. The hand is gently pushed away with a chiding growl. “Uh-uh; no. That’s mine. No one can have this but me,” he says with a sexual sneer, tugging at his tights and staggering away to shower the pleasure from his stomach.

He smirks and flicks his eyes down to his ruined gear. He’ll wear the tights again tomorrow, messy with drying cum and sweat. See what the NJPW crowd thinks about that.


End file.
